Loss of the Past
by Vixen of Light
Summary: Mimi's last day before she leaves for New York makes her realise what she leaves behind


A/N: Heh, this is a strange introspective little mess. Not much to say really. Just that no-one ever really thought about how Mimi would feel, suddenly shunted off - I believe that when she arrived, she'd be fine, but before leaving all the things that made her who she is now. . .she would be a little doubtful. She's an emotional person. May add more later if it looks like it might work. We'll see. What happens at the party, maybe. Don't even bother hassling me with flames about my choices of couples. I like what I like. Enough from me, anyway - hope you enjoy. . .  
  
-  
  
Wasn't it odd, how the things you always take for granted and expect to always be there, are the ones that are always suddenly taken away?  
  
She stared around the room, remembering when she had sat on this same bed (although then it had been covered in heavy, perfumed sheets and she had been surrounded by feminine décor and not designer travel bags, mute, neat and looking like a stranger's belongings), and Palmon had sat at her feet, the first time the little Digimon had entered her partner's world. Or her physical world, at least - in the world of her heart, Palmon had been there all along.  
  
And she was another thing Mimi had lost. . .her best friend. And now she was being taken from her other friends, the Digidestined, the only ones who understood what she had lost and won, why she looked at the world with more care and sensitivity now, who had seen her grow. They were comfort, they reminded her of childhood and of the adventure that had begun her life, and she had to leave them.  
  
New York. . .the lights were bright and brash and there was no comfort, not the comfort of familiar places, places that, now she looked at them, she realised she would soon forget, as, in spite of her seeing them every day of her life, she had never really looked at them, not properly. She had never expected to need to, to carve in her mind the senses of the pavements she walked every day, the buildings in which she shopped and ate and lived, the scents of sakura perfume and mown grass, children's innocent laughter, the people who she loved. . .  
  
When she imagined Sora, Izzy, Joe, all of them, even now, their faces grew fuzzy in her mind and their images blurred, caught up in memories she would never, ever forget or be able to recreate. Those had been her words, at the end - "I didn't cry, not one drop. . . well, maybe just one. . ." and she had remembered a strength flow in her she had never imagined, and Palmon had evolved. She only thought of that now because a tear was now slowly rolling down her alabaster cheek, leaving a glittering trail in its wake. She wrung her hands at the side of her pink skirt, tried to be strong.  
  
Despair had never been a part of her life and now, it was everywhere. She had seen others hurt, she had lost her best friend, and now she had been told (just told, no questions asked) that she was moving to another country. At first she had been so excited, a child on a birthday, a world of voices and streetlights and 100-storey shops never seen before, and it had come down to this - her last day in her home - and she had realised what she would leave behind.  
  
In her nostrils were the scents of the past, and yet they grew stale now. She wanted to remember it all, and yet, she wished she didn't have to for the memories hurt her. And it was an actual physical pain, too, a throb in her heart, tightening, every time she imagined leaving the town and simply not returning. On her lap sat an unopened book, the only thing not yet packed - a photograph album.  
  
She did not open it, even though she knew it contained only images of her friends. When she had first met them, they had been the 'weird' kids, tomboys, geeks, and yet - how wrong she had been. They had taught her that, too - people were not always how they appeared. This had been true even of herself, and a part of her grieved for her growing up - it meant change, change she was not equipped to deal with.  
  
She stuffed the album down the side of a bag, wondering if, once she was - gone, she would ever open it again. Maybe it would hurt less to forget. Perhaps one day she would feel able to turn the bleached pages and smile on the faces of her old friends, children who had shared a distant Digital adventure with her, some old paper dream, shredded now, oh yes, what-his- name Kamiya and his sister, and that other girl with the hat, and the boys. . .and the photos would be covered in dust, and smile out at her from the past, far removed from what they would have become then, and she would not feel the pain of losing them.  
  
"Mimi? Visitor for you, sweetie." her mother's voice called up the stairs, interrupting the flow of thought.  
  
"Coming!" Mimi's voice echoed horribly in the empty room, and she stood, slowly, with an effort, and walked through the door (repainted white, for apparently, had said the impassive estate agent, pink would never sell), and down to the door.  
  
Two figures stood there, and, as Mimi glanced past them, a taxi in the street. The figures smiled, and Mimi registered the boy's blue eyes and hair, the girl's affectionate expression.  
  
"Oh, Mimi," the boy said, and his voice was warm. "We. . .well, its just a little thing we put together. . .we'll miss you. . ."  
  
The girl took over. "We just have a little gathering of us, over at Tai's house - and he even paid for a taxi for the guest of honour!" Her eyes, the fire of her Champion Digimon's feathers, burned with unshed tears. If she went, Mimi knew now that she would cry, and now she knew, she was not ready to forget yet.  
  
She leaned forward and hugged the two, ignoring the boy's blushes. The girl's muscular arms tightened around her friend.  
  
"Thank you, so much. . .you guys are the best friends I'll ever have. . ." Oh no, don't let that be a choke in her voice already?  
  
"Be ready for this evening. . ." her mother came up behind her shoulder and murmured in her ear, and Mimi pulled back to reply.  
  
"I know. . .plane to catch. . ."  
  
Her mother smiled, unknowing, and let her daughter head to the taxi, watching her drive away to the past. 


End file.
